Blood Rain
by CanadianCold
Summary: Tumultuous and unpredictable, just like the weather. Though none would think that of -the- Dave Strider, would they? Manipulated my possibly well wishing superior forces, John Egbert and Dave Strider are forced into unlikely situations time and time again. But will the end result be for better or for worse?
1. Chapter 1: Introductions I

Rain fell with reckless abandon as he trudged up the all too slippery street whose sidewalk had become dangerously slick. Wind whipping at already once styled blond hair continued its assault as Dave continued upward. His converse shoes had long since become completely soaked, the aged fabric giving little protection from the harsh elements around him. Crimson eyes flicked upward for a moment to see a plateau in the road some distance above him, though he quickly looked back down as the persistent rain somehow slipped back the reflective surface of his sunglasses.

Dirk had certainly asked a lot of him when he asked Dave to be a part of his already unpleasant audience. Dave frowned a thin line as he stepped onto the flat surface of the crossroads before him, his lower leg muscles already aching from the effort. Dave loathed this rainy city as much as he loathed his brother, and had he been but a year older, he would have stayed within the desert-like comforts of Texas those few years past.

Shaded eyes glanced around as he took into consideration his location. _Still ten blocks to go until I'm at his club_ Dave thought to himself, and took a sharp left continuing on his way. Shirking his shoulders high, Dave moved his soaked collar higher around his neck, trying to break the piercing rain's assault on his neck, the precipitation having already bled into his t-shirt underneath. Normally, Dirk couldn't care less whether Dave attended the clubs he performed at, though his elder brother had insisted he come. Not vocally, of course, but through strategically placed 'smuppets' and weapons strewn about his apartment. How Dirk had gained entry was beyond him, but Dave had long since learned not to question his 'ninja ways,' as Jake had put it. _At least I think that's what he said, English's accent makes anything he says almost impossible to understand_ the soaked blond thought to himself.

English and Dirk had known one another for many years, and the two had become intimate a few years past, a fact that still boggled the mind of the younger Strider, who saw Jake English as nothing more than an eerily muscled Englishman with a fancy for replica handguns. However, Dave's thoughts were abruptly brought to a halt as the driving rain abruptly ceased to batter his person. His hidden eyes snapped around, only to see an umbrella held above his head by a slender hand. Following the hand, he found himself peering at a peculiar young man, no older than he, and what he saw caused a thin frown to once more appear on his face.

The man holding the umbrella had possibly the most ridiculous looking hairstyle - if one could call such a mess a hairstyle – Dave had ever seen. Dark brown, almost black, strands of hair stuck wildly forward and up in all directions. Underneath their maddened locks was a rather forgettable face. The young man's cheekbones sat a regular height, his jawline neither pointed nor blunt, and his skin was relatively free of blemishes, other than the occasional freckle. Conversely, of note were the young man's eyes, which were a piercing blue never seen by Dave. They seemed to shine behind a pair of rectangular, black framed glasses even in the dull, grey light of this particular evening.

Without realising it, Dave had stopped walking and was simply staring at the young man before him, who seemed to just look generally confused at Dave. "You know, most people say thank you when someone covers their soaked ass with an umbrella." As the young man spoke, Dave took note of two rather ridiculous front teeth which protruded - buck teeth, that saying seemed to come to mind. "Mhm. They often do. Though that shit's kinda ridiculous." Dave spoke evenly, keeping his tone completely devoid of any emotion. Though his response only seemed to confuse the other further. Dave turned his gaze away from the strange young man, and began walking once more, stepping back into the rain. "W-wait!" The odd young man called after him, jogging up to him and placing his umbrella over Dave once more, stopping the rain with the repetitive patter of rain on the fabric surface of the umbrella above him. "Where're you going?" He asked, keeping his strides long to keep up with the taller Dave.

Dave let off an inaudible sigh of annoyance, and didn't look over at him, and continued walking in silence for a moment. If he didn't tell him, he'd just keep pestering him _where_, and that sounds just awful to Dave. Though at the same time, if he did tell him where, he'd probably be followed by this annoying guy. _Shit, looks like I'm damned no matter what _Dave mentally grumbled. Looking over at him, Dave sound those piercing azure orbs studying him. _Eugh, can't this damn kid take a hint?_ Dave complained silently.

"Timaetus Testified." Dave said grudgingly. Though this answer only seemed to egg on the infernal game of twenty questions this strange, glasses wearing - _dork_, Dave decided was an apt name for this young man - dork wanted to play. "No way, I'm going there myself!" The annoying _dork_ chirped eagerly. Dave let out an audible groan, it was after all quite ironic to express your annoyance even if you typically did not express anything, "Of course you are." Dave said evenly. Though his dismissive answers didn't seem to dissuade the _dork_. "I am! My friend tells me this rad" – _rad? Who the hell uses the word rad anymore?_ Dave thought to himself, bewildered at this kid's lack of social dexterity – "DJ is playing there, Dirk Strider."

Dave could feel his irritation growing inside of him like a plague on an entirely expendable village of idiots. God, this guy was so irritatingly cheery it made Dave want to just vomit. "Yep, Dirk Strider is playing there." Dave drawled boredly; he wasn't about to reveal that Dirk Strider was his intolerable older brother; that would only draw out more questions from this plucky bugger. "I've never been to a place like this - a DJ club – before. It's exciting, I have to say. What do you do? Do you know? You seem like a cool guy, and so-" Dave had stopped listening some time ago, though his total lack of interest and attention was either too subtle to be noticed or this damnedable guy was too thick to get the hint.

"- So I think – wait, I never introduced myself, did I?" He gave a nervous chuckle, "I'm John. John Egbert. Nice to meet you!" John abruptly let go of his umbrella, sticking out his hand. A hardly surprised Dave caught the umbrella mid fall, and promptly ignored the hand sticking out to be shaken. "You're also an idiot. Though names seem to help us make judgements," Dave decided to speak a few more words. How dreadfully ironic of him, it was borderline uncool. Though John just seemed to stare at him, eagerly awaiting something – "It's Dave." The blond said simply. _Well, he's not going away, I may as well ensure that he doesn't return to bother me again_. "So Dave, why're you wearing those sunglasses? It's rainy and cloudy out." John chirped. _Well, that was an obvious question_, Dave gave a slight shrug and spoke again, though was quickly growing bored of answering John's incessant questioning, "Because I'm just that cool." Hoping this response would finally shut John up, Dave was once again, let down by his own unrealistic expectations.

John continued trudging through the now pooling street as they reached their destination. "You're pretty cool, yeah, but the true measure of one's coolness is factored by their ability to pull pranks" John declares proudly, which causes Dave to raise an eyebrow in belief. _Is this kid for real? Eugh, he is the pinnacle of uncool…_ "That is quite possibly the most uncool thing I have ever heard anyone ever say ever." Dave announces, a little bit of disbelief escaping into his normally neutral tones. The two turned toward a rather unremarkable row home whose only distinguishing figure was the flashing of colourful lights behind drapes in the windows.

The building itself was three stories tall, and had bay windows stretching roughly a quarter of the house in the same place on each level. Its siding was a dull, faded blue, and the door to the main level was a scuffed and filthy excuse of a white storm door. "You're just jealous – I'm the master prankster, you know. None have ever bested me since as long as I've lived! But it looks like we're here. I can't wait! This is gonna be so _cool_, right Dave?" John said in his typical inquisitive tone. Dave could tell that this was going to be a long night.

A long night, indeed.

* * *

Roughly an hour had passed since Dave had entered the all-too-cramped pseudo-home, and thankfully he had freed himself of the annoyingly chipper presence of John. Though, being alone he found was little better. Dirk's ever sadistic legacy of ruining Dave's nights out had evidently not ebbed as he found that his brother had put out enough liquor to kill a commune and thanks to it, every whore whose legs weren't bowed from too much indiscriminate sex with all the random, equally drunk, males.

To Dirk's credit, when he was at the turntables, he was a legend, though away from them, he was simply a creepy near-thirty year old with a fetish for smuppets and swords. But his fans thought that was _ironically cool_, a mix that only a Strider would dare use in Dave's mind, and that was that. The main floor of the row home had been completely opened up, other than a few loadbearing posts scattered evenly through the place. The turntable station had been set up on a folding table right next to the doorway, in front of the window, where Dirk stood, back to the bay window. Before him, the entirety of the main floor moved and writhed with dancing bodies as the bass flooded the narrow area. Dave sat at the poor excuse for a kitchen island, facing away from the enragingly complex and well-constructed beats of his brother's making.

Idly sipping at a cheap beer his brother had no doubt blackmailed from someone, Dave pointedly ignored those around him, and was thankfully left alone for his efforts. Girls and women alike came up to him often enough, though a few sarcastic words dispatched them with ease, though however it was a newcomer that brought nothing but ill tidings for Dave. John sauntered up, face flushed with intoxication, and a dumb grin stretching across his equally dumb face, at least in Dave's opinion. The somewhat inebriated John took a seat on the once empty stool next to the sullen blond and continued grinning at Dave. "C'mon, Dave! Don't you want to _dance_ or something? Dirk's really good at this. I don't know this kind of music, but even I can tell it's awesome!"

Dave groaned aloud, though such was thankfully lost in the cacophony of noise around them. "That would be terribly uncool, John. And I assure you, this isn't _that_ great" Dave lied. He knew Dirk's skills were beyond questioning, but he'd never give the smuppet obsessed freak the satisfaction of knowing that Dave had admitted it to someone. Though Dave's thoughts were abruptly and rudely interrupted as the music stopped, and the crowd subsequently fell silent as well. The whine of a microphone being plugged into the speaker system sounded and a few people subsequently whined. Dirk's condescending and bassey voice echoed through the room; "I hear we've got a _real honour_ here, ladies and gentlemen! My dear Jake English tells me that we have none other than my little bro Dave Strider in the audience!" Dave spun around on his stool, his eyes practically ablaze with hatred, and his eyebrows were knitted in fury as he met the equally hidden gaze of Dirk, better known to him as Bro.

Dirk flourished a sculpted arm toward Dave, and the younger Strider could practically feel how amused Bro was through those ridiculously shaped shades and equally ridiculous hair. "C'mon, little bro! Come up here and spin something rad for these fine people." Dirk was interrupted by the all-too-British cheering of Jake English, who stood just off to the side. Jake raised a clenched fist into the air, his brown air pushed back with another as he shouted with his annoyingly earnest heart; "Dave! Dave! Dave! Dave!" And on and on. Worse yet, Jake was joined in by the rest of the pseudo-club. Though it was John that caught Dave's attention. The dorky brunet just nodded his head eagerly, and spoke, though his words were lost in the commotion.

Thanking himself for the concealing effect of his shades, he slipped off his stool and walked toward Dirk, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of seeing Dave storm out like a petulant child. The crowd parted as he strode through the area left between the two waves of people and took his place behind the tables. As Dirk stepped aside, Dave hissed "I'll get you for this, Bro." Though Dirk only smirked condescendingly and said calmly "I'm sure you'll try." Dirk sauntered off to the side where Jake gave him two ridiculous thumbs up and Dave sighed. He wasn't new to performing like this; he just didn't like to be put on the spot, least of all by his shithead of an older brother.

Eyeing his brother's playlist on his laptop that he evidently intended to mix, he decided to simply go all out and wow the audience so that they'd be impressed enough to make him leave. With a few taps of the touchpad on Bro's laptop, he started up the song. Long, narrow fingers placed on the two turntables readily at hand, he took a deep breath, and, as Bro always says, 'let the sick beats flow.'

* * *

Dirk folded his strong arms over his chest, a small smirk coming to form on his lips. Jake's strong hand was placed on his far hip passively, and the two observed Dave expertly mix the song at hand, his audience dancing without reprieve to his ministrations. "Well, he learned from the best, he should be this good, if not better." Dirk said, a smirk still plastered on his face. Though his cocky words only brought a chuckle from Jake. "You cocky blaggard, be proud of him!" Jake's chuckling dying down to a snicker as he watched Dave, "He really is good, you know. A shame he takes after your father with that temper of his, hm?" Dirk stiffened at the mention of his father, though relaxed at the calming touch of Jake's hand at the base of his spine.

Relenting to Jake's infallible kindness, Dirk nodded. "He does have that bastard's temper. But he's a good kid, I suppose. Even if his shades are ridiculous looking." Dirk's hidden gaze meandered his crowded pseudo-club to see a peculiar figure sitting at the bar in their kitchen. The young man had dark brown hair and was wearing a simple blue hoodie and faded blue jeans. "Is that him, Jake?" Dirk motioned to the seated John Egbert, who was totally enthralled with Dave's ministrations. Jake nodded at Dirk's inquiry and spoke as well, "Yeah. He came in with Dave. Seems nice enough. But doesn't he…?" Jake trailed off, and Dirk nodded, "Yeah he does, doesn't he? Weird…"


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions II

**Author's Note:**

Confused by the first chapter? Good! That was the intent. More information on the subtle queues thrown in will be revealed as time goes on. Enjoy chapter two!

"How many times do I have to say it until you respond with more than 'mhm' or 'right'?" John huffed, evidently feigning being annoyed. The brunet was practically gushing over Dave, though the enigmatic shade wearing young man found himself hard-pressed to believe that this guy could be _this_ ridiculous. John leaned further over the counter toward Dave, further invading his space. "So, did your bro teach you to make… to uh… to do that?" John raised a hand, spinning an invisible turntable, making a horrid impression of the sound of a record being spun.

Dave cringed at the lameness that was John's imitation of spinning a record, and shook his head, speaking dejectedly, "you are possibly the least cool person to have ever existed, John. Don't do that again." Dave rested his chin in the cusp of his right hand, elbow propped up on the table. John leaned ever closer, grinning widely to such a point his buckteeth were quite pronounced. "You don't mean that, can't I –_wicka wicka _– my way into your cool books?" The sound of John spinning an invisible record again actually amused, greatly amused, even, but he would never dare show it.

Instead, he deftly grabbed John's wrist, the brunet's skin feeling hot under his pale grasp and making the blond decidedly uncomfortable, and spoke boredly, "John, if you be any more uncool, this place is going to explode with dork. It'll be a national tragedy; coolest man alive dies to uncool San Franciscian dork from his terrible sick-beat-interpretations. Reporters say the scene of the crime was described by initial onlookers as-" Dave was abruptly cut off by that same eerily warm hand over his mouth. John was laughing outrageously loud, the occasional snort slipping through.

"Dave, please!" He continued his outrageous laughter, which was now beginning to draw attention from the still somewhat sober patronage of Dirk's sorry excuse of a club. "You're rambling! It's too – oh, god!" John continued laughing for a good long minute before calming down, whereupon Dave promptly removed the hand from his mouth. "Get your grubby paw of me, you dork…" He wiped at his mouth irritably, his words filled with the same contempt. Though this didn't seem to hamper John's mood, who just chuckled a little shaking his head. Deciding that, with Dirk and Jake likely engrossed in their own deviant perversions upstairs, it was time for he himself to retire to his own apartment. Far away from the disturbing love life of his Bro and this intolerably annoying boy, John.

Though, much to his chagrin, John simply hopped off his own stool and follow Dave toward the exit, stepping through the collapsed mass of passed out bodies. "Going home, Dave?" He inquired as the two reached the door. Dave nodded once, not speaking, though John seemed to fill the void with endless chatter, a fact that Dave had begun to notice was largely universal, "that's too bad. I guess I'll see ya around, then?" John said, a touch of hopefulness in his voice, which seemed to strike a rather painful chord with Dave.

"_You'll come home soon, right?" The crimson eyed boy looked up at the seemingly massive man before him, who pulled a pair of aviators over his own blood red eyes. The man was strong and his toned body proved such, however the often hidden red orbs seemed to beguile a coldness in his heart that always left the boy rather unnerved. The large man offered a shrug in response to the boy's question, and stepped out the door, leaving the boy alone in the house. The boy simply stood there for many minutes, staring at the door, a sense of foreign finality tugging at the corners of his mind._

"U-uh…" Dave stuttered, the slip in 'coolness' immediately attracting a concerned glance from John. "Yeah, sure…" Dave mumbled, his mind all sorts of confused at that point. Though his answer seemed to placate John who quite suddenly wrapped his arms around Dave's neck and midsection, pulling him into a tight hug for a moment, though Dave simply stood rigidly, the invasion of his personal space and the enraging kindness of John thoroughly confusing him. Being freed from John's oddly strong vice-like hug, Dave nodded and with a mumbled 'goodnight' stepped into the rainy night.

As John rummaged in a pile of discarded jackets and umbrellas for his own rain gear, he heard the sounds of bare feet on the hardwood stairs behind him. Clad in only a pair of grey sweatpants, Dirk stood on the third step up from John, sizing him up from behind the sharply angled sunglasses he perpetually wore. "That wasn't a smart line to use on Dave, kid" Dirk said calmly, adjusting a black baseball cap on his head, "it'll bring back bad memories for him." The enigmatic blond explained his reasoning after a moment, leaving John to ponder what was said.

"I think… he's a cool guy. Just needs to learn to loosen up and have a little fun. I hope I didn't scare him off like-" John was abruptly cut off as his thoughts turned morose by a strong hand on his shoulder. Dirk stared down at John impassively, though the brunet could tell this was about as kind as any Strider could be. Dirk spoke in that same passive tone, though a sense of earnestness could be felt in his words, if not the grasp of reassurance; "don't think about that, kid. Wallowing in the past only causes more pain." With that, Dirk dropped his hand, and turned on his heel, ascending the wooden stairs once more with the padded thunk of his bare footfalls, leaving a rather worried John in his wake.

Dave flipped up the collar on his coat, trying to combat the steady downpour of rain. It was cold and damp, and, typical to the fall weather that he found himself in, the rain cut to the bone as it pierced the thin lining of his coat. Hand stuffed in his pockets, the narrow fingers of his right hand played with a ring of keys, while his left sat in the pocket, limp. Shoes already becoming heavy and cold with water, Dave hurried on, anxious to be rid of his already soaked garments and in his dry apartment.

Though as he walked, various thoughts combatted him. He _knew_ he had seen John before, but where? And if he had, why did neither of them seem to recognise one another? It didn't seem to add up. Moreover, what would a dorky loser like John want with one of Dirk's ironically popular club-night mix-down sessions? Dave's mouth turned into a decisive frown as he continued on his way. Nothing in this seemed to add up. But he might just be seeing something in nothing. "What's the word for that?" Dave mused aloud, "anthropomorphism sounds right…" with that conundrum settled, he continued on his way.

John certainly seemed like a nice guy, even if he was possibly the dorkiest person in existence and had absolutely zero social dexterity. Maybe Lalonde would have some tentacle-related therapy for him. Retrieving his phone from his pocket and opening up the ironically cool PesterchumTM.

- turntechGodhead [TG] has begun pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]–

TG: lalonde, stop with your wizard nonsense for a moment, you overgrown 14 year old womanchild

TT: Good evening to you as well, David.

TG: what the fuck are Bro and Jake up to

TT: I haven't the slightest idea as to what you are referring to.

TG: real funny, I know you know

TG: is this some kind of horrible smuppet prelude

TG: if so spare me the agony and just kill me lalonde before the smuppets violate me again

TT: I think Dirk's puppets are endearing and indicative of his person. Regardless, I'm afraid I still do not know what you're talking about. Please elaborate so that I might dispense some invaluable tentacle therapy.

TG: that sounded kinda creepy

TG: anyways so I went to Bro's lame ass mix down to try to get him to ease up on the smuppet attacks

TT: I don't really believe that's why you went, but go on.

TG: quit interrupting

TG: anyways so I meet this guy name John and he is by far the biggest dork ever to have lived

TT: David, you sound practically smitten.

TG: smitten with the idea of smacking him upside the head yeah

TG: he wouldn't leave me alone all night

TG: worse yet, he touched me

TT: Oh my, did you call the police?

TG: not like that lalonde

TG: damn

TT: My apologies. Continue.

TG: hes a touchy kid, makes things weird

Dave looked up for a moment as he continued walking, the touchscreen of his phone becoming quite difficult to read. He was still a ways from home, and the rain had already thoroughly soaked him to the bone once more. However, he pressed on, returning his attention to his conversation with Rose.

TT: Is that so? And what do you need tentacle therapy for?

TG: no one needs tentacle therapy lalonde

TG: its a historical fact that no one needs tentacle therapy

TG: ancient paleolithic hominids made carvings on cave walls on how unneeded it is

TG: medieval sorcerers wrote books on why it was evil and never needed

TG: buddhist monks pray for tentacle therapy to never invade their minds

TT: Hush, David, you're rambling. Regardless, it sounds as though this John fellow has you in quite the tizzy. I suggest you get to know him better. It's rare someone can get so quickly under your skin, and I think it's worth investigating. Though I'd hazard against confronting Dirk or Jake about this, lest you wish for a bed full of smut puppets, of which you so rationally abhor.

TG: thats terrible advice and you should feel terrible lalonde

TT: It is not, you just don't have a response. You see? This boy has you all mixed up and confused. I bet he even embraced you.

Dave frowned at that. How the hell did she always _know_ everything? She must have planted a camera on him when they were little…

TG: thats not even remotely funny

TT: So he did. I'm sure it was adorable.

TG: careful, you sounded like Jade for a second there

TT: Oh hush, David. Don't be paranoid. Regardless, unlike certain individuals with which I share a peculiar friendship with, I must retire for the evening. Sleep beckons, and I shan't deny her my visitation of respite.

TG: what

TT: I'm going to bed.

TG: ah

TT: Not the brightest boy, are you?

TG: lalonde I'm twenty, since when have I still been a boy

TT: Since you kept typing like one, dear. Goodnight and good luck with your boy problems.

TG: that sounded just weird

TG: goodnight

- turntechGodhead [TG] has ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]-

As he had expected, talking to Rose yielded no desirable results, only the typical responses she was so famous for. Ever the cryptic lady, Rose knew something and wasn't about to openly tell Dave, not until she had decided it was _safe_ to do so. Sadly, Dave could not get too mad at her; she was his half-sister, after all. Though that didn't dissuade her from never helping him when he could use it.

Dave rounded the corner of the street and saw his apartment complex beside him. A stout building four stories high, it was rain weathered and looked decidedly miserable in all weather patterns. Dirty white stucco held to its outer walls and evenly interspaced windows sat on each floor. On the main floor, a singular door sat between the two doors to the street level apartments. Retrieving his keys from his right pocket, Dave slid the key into the locked doorknob, and with a heave, pulled the door open, its hinges screeching in resistance. Removing his key quickly, he slipped into the dim, sorry excuse for a foyer, and quickly ascended the staircase before him. Dim yellow lighting gave notice to the largely ignored mailboxes and one lonely chair in the corner. Above the mailboxes, in dirty cheap, shiny plastic was written 'Sunshine Apartments.'

Dirty and old carpet muffled his steps as he ascended to the fourth floor, whereupon he opened one more door and stood in the silent hallway of the top floor. The floors creaked loudly under foot as he strode toward apartment 41, and slid his key into the deadbolt, which turned with a smooth glide. Shortly after moving in, Dave had promptly replaced the locks, much to the anger of the landlord, until of course Dave reluctantly gave up the spare key after being threatened to be evicted.

Dave slid off his soaked pathetic excuse of a windbreaker and tossed it onto the floor, along with his poorly maintained converse hi-tops. Smacking his hand against the wall, he flicked on the lights in the kitchen and living room area as he walked into the previously darkened room. The kitchen itself was a sorry sight, and a living testament to Dave's terrible eating habits. Uncleaned and often unfinished boxes of takeout food littered the countertops, and while the microwave looked as though it had seen a million uses, the stove below was covered in a thick layer of dust, the yellow-white appliance practically begging to be removed from existence.

Dave turned toward the fridge, opening the lopsided appliance which lurched forward as he pulled on the door handle. Having grown used to this defect of the old refrigerator which likely predated the blond by a decade or two, he caught it with his free hand as he maneuvered his hand around the jars of preserved bugs and onto the four litre carton of orange juice. Eagerly removing the fresh jug, he placed the now exposed lip to his mouth and tipped it back, drinking deeply, before simply replacing it haphazardly in the fridge, which fell back into its idle wobbly state.

Dave pulled uncomfortably at his soaked sweatshirt, which displayed the iconic signature of his mixing 'business,' a record midspin, whose centre core was a bright red, much akin to his eyes. Dave pulled at the collar of the soaked garment over his head, accidentally knocking his sunglasses off, and tossed the shirt into a direction of his largely ignored TV and the well-used couch before it, careful to ignore the carefully placed DJ equipment in the corner, adjacent to the TV.

Deciding he was well enough ready to sleep, Dave wandered down a short hallway to his right and turned into his room, which was politely put, a pig sty. Discarded clothing, both clean and dirty, laid strewn about the room. A double bed whose covers had most likely never been cleaned in well over a year, let alone folded properly on the bed, sat in a ball on the mattress. Cheap blinds failed to keep the yellow light of the streetlights outside from bleeding in. Heedless to the poor quality of his room, Dave collapsed on his bed and felt his consciousness drift away.

John collapsed his umbrella over the matt before the door as he carefully removed his shoes, placing them next to the hushpuppies his father seemed to adore so greatly. Placing the umbrella against the wall to dry, he blinked, and sniffed the air. To his absolute horror, John smelt the sweet aroma of _baked goods_. Making his way to the brightly illuminated kitchen, John found his father, still adorned in his white shirt and black tie, matching his black slacks and pipe absentmindedly stirring a pot of cake batter. "Dad…" John whined, "don't we already have like… five cakes in the fridge downstairs?" His father looked up, rather startled from the sudden appearance of his on.

"Oh, goodness son, you scared me. And we have six in the basement fridge, but none in the regular fridge. You weren't home and it was getting late, so I decided I'd bake something for you to snack on during the week while I waited up for you." His father explained calmly, placing the bowl of mix under the mixer and turned on the complex machine, which began to beat the mixture into a smooth, creamy flow of batter.

John groaned at his father response, "Dad, I'm not a little kid. You don't need to wait up for me. It's not like-" John was cut off by the vibrating of his phone, which he fumbled for, and after a moment retrieved from his pocket and found a text from Jake, indicating that he had found Dave's pesterchum address and that John owed him a cake for his efforts. John closed the messaging app and opened pesterchum, sending the request to 'turntableGodhead' and stuffing his phone in his pocket. "… Anyways, I'm beat, I'm gonna go to bed. G'night dad."

John's father nodded and with a cursory 'goodnight, son' returned to his endless baking. It was amazing that the man didn't simply pass out during the day due to his all hours baking. Ascending the stairs to the second floor of their row home, John smiled a little. "I can't believe how handsome he was… I guess Dirk was right with what he said about Striders and style…" John mused as he changed into a simple old t-shirt and stripped to his boxers, blissfully unaware of how much anger his room would bring a man such as Dave. Nic Cage posters adorned every wall, along with copious other movies and games.

John turned off his lamp and sighed, his breathing slowing almost immediately. However, from behind his eyelids, the bright glow of his phone took the room by storm, and further made its presence known with an obnoxious vibrating against the wooden surface of his night table. John grabbed his phone and brought it close to his face, as without his glasses, his sight was woefully pathetic. Pesterchum blinked in the corner and he clicked it.

John smiled widely as he read the notification: "- turntechGodhead has accepted your request. Pester turntechGodhead **now**?" As John went to click on the hyperlink 'now,' another notification appeared at the top of his screen, in his chatlogs. Opening the most recent, he read:

-turntechGodhead has begun pestering ectoBiologist-

TG: youre totally that guy from Bro's lame show aren't you

John found himself blushing brightly at the bluntness of Dave's message and quickly typed

EB: Yep! The English buff guy gave it to me, said you and he were friends.

TG: I wouldnt say were friends

EB: Sooo

TG: Soo

EB: So

TG: S

EB: Haha cute :P

TG: I know I am John

TG: don't be jealous now, its unbecoming of a fine noble lady

EB: Your irony knows no boundaries, does it?

TG: nope

John gulped nervously, and deciding that their little conversation was going well, simply typed more.

EB: So wanna hang out sometime?

A long moment of pause held John in the throes of social suicide as he realised how awkwardly abrupt his message was, and fervently wished that he could delete it.

TG: sure but no more Dirk mixdowns

TG: a man can only take a few of those in a lifetime

EB: Great! I know just the place, it's a little coffeeshop on Bernard Street :P

John smiled widely, buckteeth absentmindedly nibbling at his bottom lip. Dave was a cool guy and he was really funny to hang out with.

TG: sounds dandy

TG: listen John I'd love to stay and chat but the bitchmaster tiredness is taking me

EB: No problem, Davey! Goodnight :D

TG: davey

TG: oh Christ what did I get myself into

TG: goodnight John

EB: Goodnight Dave!

With that, John returned his phone to the nightable and grinned widedly. This was gonna be _fun_.


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation I

The sun was high overhead as John stepped out the doorway, using his hand as a shade from light above, he fumbled awkwardly with his keys as he tried to get them back into his pocket almost desperately, eager to be off. For some reason, John delighted in going to work; making the customers feel happy and welcome was an incredibly rewarding experience, even if the pay was less than he might desire. Stuffing his keys into his pocket, he felt a car key digging into his thigh, though he ignored it and marched down the steps.

John wore a light windbreaker, predictably a light blue colouration, which hung loosely over an incredibly worn t-shirt, which was a faded black tee-shirt and coupled with a pair of loose fitting jeans. Stuffing his hands in his coat pockets, he set off toward the bus stop at the base of the hill. The row houses on either side of the road were quiet, as most residents having left for work hours ago. John breathed out a content sigh and stopped at one of the cross walks, only to see a familiar face staring over the road before them.

Her hair was a magnificent blonde, though it was obscured by a beanie sitting on the back of her head. She wore a pair of tight fitting black jeans a white shirt, covered by a loose fitting purple cardigan. Her hands were folded behind her back, and she seemed totally oblivious to the fact that she was standing –right- in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing young men and old lady alike to walk around her. Many seemed as though they'd push by her, but as they drew closer, they would sharply turn and avoid making contact.

John hurried forth, raising an arm, waving, and called out; "Rose! What's up?" The poised young woman turned to face John, nodding. Though she didn't actually speak until he was a few feet away from her, "hello, John, and I see you're energetic as always. For someone who was out partying, I'm rather surprised." Rose looked John up and down, "you dressed like that at that… mix down, didn't you? Even _I_ know that's social suicide." John had always admired how poised Rose was when she talked. She never made a fool out of herself, and always kept her emotions controlled, something John readily admitted to envy.

"I did _not_! I wore that new shirt, y'know, the one Jade helped me pick out. And I'll have you know that I _did_ make a friend. His name is Dave Strider. He's Dirk's little brother. I didn't even know Dirk _had_ a little brother, let alone one that's so…" John trailed off, making a swirling motion with his hands. Rose nodded thoughtfully, that look of hidden intelligence glinting in those grey eyes. "I see… Though I was aware Dirk has a little brother." Rose commented idly, though for a moment it looked like she was about to say something more, she looked away and spoke once more after a long break, "who are we closing with tonight?"

John frowned, pursing his lips, and decided to drop the topic at hand. Having known Rose since infancy through their relation of his cousin Jake English and whatever Rose had to do with Dirk Strider, he was all too aware that Rose never gave the whole truth or every truth. "I think it's Gamzee, though for all we know he could just not show up and bar the doors with garbage cans again." John chuckled at that thought, fondly remembering the many times that they had made the shop into a _shithole_, at least according to Karkat, one of their less than pleasant coworkers.

John's thoughts were interrupted as a rickety bus rounded the corner. Rose canted her head toward the bus and once it stopped, "An interesting turn of events, this…" she mused, receiving a rather confused look from John. "Interesting, indeed…"

Dave pushed himself upright, his back popping, desperately trying to resist the act of waking up at two in the afternoon. One hand wiping sleep from his eyes, the other fumbling around for a pair of since discarded pair of aviator sunglasses, he groaned, "fuckin' hell, what time is it…" Pushing already strewn sheets off his person. Though, a dreaded voice interrupted his sleep, with a fully annoying English accent.

"Well, I think it's two o'clock, Shit, mate, you sleep a lot!" Dave instantly scrambled for his sunglasses and slapped them on with such haste that the nose clip bent on his face, and groaned again. Though, his flurry of movement only seemed to amuse the one and only Jake English. "Oh Dave, why hide your eyes from me? Blimey, I see your brother's eyes daily, no need to hide from me of all people." Jake continued to ramble on about what an amazing and unique eye colour Dave's family had, though the freshly woken blond had all but stopped listening.

Firstly deciding that criticising Jake's attire was in order, he silently made a list of what was wrong. Jake wore a skin tight green sweater whose sleeves went halfway down his forearms, covering his strong biceps and midsection. Donning a pair of, in Dave's opinion, far too short shorts for a man of Jake's masculine physique and size, worse yet, he wore a pair of knee high leather boots, laced all the way up. "… So Jake and I, we're at Rose's mom's place and she's just completely blitzed; I say, it was hilarious!"

Dave, pushing himself to a stand, ran a hand through his hair. "Jake." He spoke once, though the strong brunet didn't seem to hear him. "Jake." He repeated, louder. Though, much to his annoyance, Jake kept on talking. "JAKE!" Dave shouted, causing Jake to jump abruptly; "aye, mate, no need to shout!" Dave's left eyebrow twitched at that, though he quickly composed himself, "why are you in my place? How did you get in? And moreover, why are you dressed like a Russian fighting lesbian?" Though his questioning only seemed to amuse Jake, and he began to laugh broadly.

"A Russian fighting lesbian? That's pretty clever, Dave. And Dirk's in the other room, something to do with those delightful dirty puppets. Anyways, I cooked up some breakfast; Dirk should be halfway into it, so if you want some; better get out of bed. Also, you might wanna change outta your skivvies." Jake rambled aimlessly. Having realised that he was wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, which barely served to cover anything, and subsequently pulled on a pair of ratty sweatpants and a sleeveless tee-shirt. "Better! Let's go to breakfast, yeah?" Jake nodded eagerly, and threw open the lopsided door to Dave's room which had fallen closed while Jake rambled aimlessly. Dave shambled through much akin to a zombie, only to find Dirk standing on his ratty counters.

Dirk appeared to be hanging puppets with phallic _adornments_ attached on some sort of mobile straight out of smuppet hell. The tall blond seemed so terribly pleased with himself as he did so, a little smirk playing at the corner of his lip. Below him and dangerously close to being stepped on was a plate of half eaten eggs, bacon and pancakes, along with an entirely empty two plates. "Bro! Get the fuck down!" Dave barked, storming over. Bro hopped down and stood, smiling an insincere smile at his little brother whose brow was knit in anger, "you don't like it, Davey? I'm hurt. I put a lot of work into this mobile work of art." Dirk cooed, going to ruffle Dave's hair, though the latter smacked the former's hand away irritably, and immediately regretted the decision. "Touchy, I thought you'd be grateful after I got you such a great friend. You know, that, uh… Jake, what's his name?" Bro looked over Dave's head to Jake, who seemed like he was trying to be absorbed into the wall in order to avoid the ugly confrontation of Striders. "John Egbert is his name, Dirk." Jake said quickly, English accent butchering both names horribly.

"Right! John Egbert. From what I saw you two hit it off really well, or am I wrong?" Dirk turned back to Dave, only to find the younger Strider all the more angered. "I don't need your help in my social life and I certainly don't need you trying to fix me up with dorky little shits who fawn over me like a god and had teeth like a beaver. And for the last time I'm not gay!" Dave's temper slipped out, practically shouting the last sentence, and immediately regretted this as well. Dirk tsked sadly, and sauntered over to Jake, slinging an arm around the brunet. "Don't you want to be happy like us, Davey? Just admit it and you'll be better for it." The elder blond announced confidently.

Dave scoffed irritably and shook his head, "I'd rather be dead than like you, Bro. Now get those damned puppets down before I get my sword." Dave's words only elicited a groan from Jake, who whined "can't you two just get along and eat breakfast together?" Dave waved a dismissive hand at him. Dirk rolled his eyes, and sauntered forward, placing a hand on Dave's head.

"Little Davey, calm down, you might wanna calm down, there." His tone was lighthearted, though Dave knew far better than to take the tone at face value. From the slight tenseness of Dirk's hand to the slightly more straight angle of his spine, Dirk was growing angered, and Dave decided that a slight repose from their hidden rage was necessary and… desired. Dave's hand twitched and his arm swung upward, catching Dirk's stationary wrist in his long fingers. Thumb and two forefingers pressed deeply into the soft, sensitive tissues below the wrist itself, causing Dirk's hand to spasm.

However the elder Strider wasted no time in returning the gesture of pain to Dave. With his free right hand he grabbed Dave by the collar and raised him deftly into the air. Dirk's right wrist was freed as Dave went swinging for his. "You know, Zeus was the youngest of his family and yet he supposedly ruled his brothers and sisters, and even before that, overthrew his father, Kronos…" Dave spoke evenly as his fists met nothing but air, Dirk lazily dodging him, before sending a knee clear into Dave's stomach, dropping him in the process. The younger blond crumpled as he hit the ground, though after a slight repose, spun his right leg out, catching Dirk at the shins and throwing him to the ground. Jake stumbled forward, going to catch Dirk, though the elder Strider shook his head, angrily, "stay out of this, Jake, it needs to be done" Dirk caught himself with his hands, jumping back up to his full height and throwing his weight into a hard punch toward Dave's face.

Dave raised a hand, going to catch the punch as it was sent right for his face. Catching the fist was no hard work, though stopping the immense strength of his elder brother proved simply too much to handle for the younger Strider, and his own knuckles crumpled into his face, digging deeply into his cheekbone. With a cry of anger, he shoved the hand away and stumbled backward. Though he couldn't simply let Dirk get away so easily. Dave stumbled backward, feigning grave injury, a smirk of satisfaction coming over Dirk's face. Dave feigned placing a foot forward, still playing his stumbling game. "Kronos was a monster, Bro… he ate his children. Our father was a monster too. Maybe it's my lot in life to finally surpass you…" Dave said quietly, voice still as monotone as ever. With his left hand he grabbed Dirk by the forearm, wrenching him down. Raising a long leg into the air, he connected his foot with Dirk's chin, and with the sickening crunch of teeth, blood began to flow from his lips as the elder Strider simply stood there, bent at the waist.

Dirk slowly raised back up, his mouth a bloodstained gory wreck, hidden behind a cacophony grin. "Well well well, you really are just a shit, aren't you Dave? I go to all this effort for you, and you kick me in the teeth… The irony is disgusting and…" He began to chuckle a bassy chuckle, "fucking kids, no damned gratitude nowadays…" Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he continued to speak, whipping the gory mess to the ground with a rather unsightly splatter. "You're on your own, Dave. Good luck, you'll need it." Jake quite suddenly bolted forward, placing an arm around Dirk and practically dragging him toward the door. "Jake, I'm fine. I'm almost… proud."

Jake pushed the door open and hurried the bleeding Dirk out the door, casting a mixed look toward Dave. Was it fear he saw in his eyes? Admiration? Empathy? Dave couldn't say. It was as though those two had been hiding something from him all his life? "Damnit… Damn it all to hell!" Dave stomped off toward the dirty futon in the living room, taking a seat with a loud thump, and simply sat there in silence.

Minutes passed in silence as Dave sat there, his mind meandering over what he had just done. He had let his cool slip and gotten into a fight with Dirk, and this would definitely bite him in the ass.

A soft knocking came from the front door.

"Yep. There it is. Jaws a-snapping." Dave mumbled, pushing himself to a stand. Making his way to the door, another knock came, "Alright, alright, calm your shit, I'm coming…" Rubbing at his cheek, he opened the door, only to see one of the last people he wanted to see.

"Hi, Dave. Jake told me you wanted to hang out?" John Egbert stood before him, a nervous smile tugging it at his lips. Dave groaned loudly.

"Fuck." The blond groaned.


End file.
